


A Court of Steel and Fire

by RitaMordio



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-27 07:24:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15680733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RitaMordio/pseuds/RitaMordio
Summary: Post-ACOFAS.  My take on Nesta's banishment to the Illyrian camps with Cassian and her corresponding recovery process.Alternatively, a reminder that hardened steel doesn't melt easily.~~Multi-chapter; I'll update this when I have an idea of how long it will end up being.  Comments very appreciated!!As always, the characters/locations are owned by the amazing Sarah J. Maas.





	1. The Dark Side of Steel

**Author's Note:**

> P.S. You don't have to read my previous one-shot "Drowning in Air" at all to understand any of this fanfiction, but I will reference it occasionally if you want to see my backdrop.

**The Dark Side of Steel**

This...this was awkward.

Cassian took great strides not to alter his gaze from the scenery of firs flying past each of his sides, else his vision catch a glimpse of the sleeping female in his arms. At least he assumed she was sleeping. After all, the moment he had picked her up (to neither of their particular enjoyment), she had turned away from him in his arms and refused to say a word for the entire trip, which totaled almost two hours at this point.

He still didn’t quite believe Feyre’s strong protests that the Inner Circle couldn’t spare a single person to winnow them to the camps; he had a far greater suspicion that this travel method was chosen from a combination of Feyre meddling and Rhys/Mor not wanting to spend a single minute of their time around Nesta.

The thought made him grit his teeth. He understood how Nesta’s situation looked on the outside, how much pain she caused Feyre with her behavior. But it was inexcusable how cold the rest of the Inner Circle were towards her, even without knowing...

Cassian shook his head to clear his mind. He was already failing at the one job he had set himself to do when they started this flight, as his eyes were now squarely on her immobile form. He groaned and tucked his wings in as he maneuvered through a familiar sharp cut in the tree formations. It would be a long trip for him. But then, this year...this year had been a long year for him as well.

Even when not accounting for Nesta, he’d had to deal with Illyrian discontent, seemingly-infinite funerals for the fallen, his feeling of hopelessness at continuing to see the females growing up with scars on their wings, despite Rhys’s and his new policies... It made eternal life seem a little bit more eternal, and certainly not in a pleasant manner.

“Why are we stopped?”

Her voice, sharp and piercing in the thin air, shook him back to his senses. She hadn’t deigned to turn around to speak to him, but it seems she hadn’t been sleeping after all either. He realized he had begun hovering in air halfway above the ground at some point – his inner troubles finding their way into his instincts – and replied in a cool manner.

“I was debating where in the camp to touch down.”

“Hmph.” 

He heard in her tone she could sense he was lying. Of course she did – she _always_ knew. But then, she had embraced that side of her during the War, embraced that side of _him_ during the War. Now...

“I should think you would not be in need of debating – I’m sure my sister’s eviction notice was planned out well in advance.” He sighed. Now, her retorts were cold and emotionless, long since devoid of any form of banter or wit, even in these few times she dared to call him out. But it was better than silence, he thought as he resumed flying.

“As much as I’m thrilled that we will be sharing a small shack, _sweetheart_ –” He slightly paused, hoping for a familiar respondent huff that never came. “–I don’t particularly enjoy the idea of a non-Illyrian female living yards away from those who would love nothing more than to spill her blood in the dirt.”

“You say that as if this wasn’t your idea.” She shifted in his arms as Cassian’s heart stung with the wound from her comment. He found himself abruptly changing his mind as a result; perhaps, communication was the enemy after all.

“Believe what you want.” His voice droned back in a monotone growl, and he found himself taking off in a sudden acceleration, hoping for the first time in his life that he could soon take a break from her presence.

Her resulting silence indicated the experience was mutual.

* * *

He was tense.

She hadn’t been able to understand why, but this maddening anxiety had lasted for several minutes, and her pride was too stung from this trip even existing to bother inquiring into the reason. But, as the village came into her vision along the horizon, Nesta saw the scene at its opening gate and realized what Cassian had undoubtedly scented from miles away. Six...no, seven, as she squinted her eyes, Illyrian warriors manned the entrance, staring expectantly at the two of them. She narrowed her eyes as she began to make out Devlon’s face in front, his expression no doubt just as pleasant as hers.

Her stomach nearly gave out as Cassian dipped into a sudden dive, riding the winds down into a smooth glide a few feet above the ground. She had instinctively clenched the front of his riding leathers, but she immediately released her grip and cursed at herself for the crutch, her words thankfully disappearing into the torrent from their landing. Still, his arms tightened around her in response, leading to a second string of curses, this time ones she made sure he heard. Unfazed, he glided them into a soft landing, his wings folding in for stability.

However, no sooner had Cassian dropped his feet to the ground than she was set down beside him, his wings flaring out in a warning stretch in front of her. Annoyed, she walked around him and glared directly at Devlon, who matched her gaze with equal disdain. The camp leader opened his mouth to undoubtedly mock her, but it was lost in Cassian’s deep growl.

“What’s the meaning of this, Devlon?”

Some of the other Illyrians backed up at Cassian’s snarl, but Devlon didn’t flinch as he kept his stare fully on Nesta. Their eyes remained locked, a battle of endurance neither one of them was willing to concede.

“I should ask you the same thing.” Devlon finally tilted his head to the commander, firmly meeting eye contact. She could feel Cassian’s blood rise in response. “You should know better to bring the witch here without notice. She has no business being here among us.” 

“She’s staying with me for the next few months, as I’m unsatisfied with your lack of progress and wish to take a more... _hands-on_ role with your unit.” Cassian drawled, drawing a firm line with his words.

“No.” Devlon stepped forward and the six Illyrians behind him smirked, their wings flexing in preparation for conflict. “I don’t care what you do, but your consort isn’t–”

“I’m not his consort.” Nesta spit out the words with force, but Devlon dismissed her with a snort.

“Fine. Your _courtesan_ isn’t welcome here.”

“I’d be careful, if I were you–” Nesta glared at Cassian cutting her retort off, but his eyes remained squarely on the other Illyrians. “–if you want to stay above ground.”

Devlon grinned, a wolf craving a fight for his pack, as his attention switched back to the Illyrian commander. “Threatening your own kind, Cassian? I always knew you were a traitor to your race, through and through.”

“I’m not talking about myself.” Cassian’s words came out steady, even as Nesta felt each of Devlon’s words hit their intended target. She didn’t allow herself to be distracted, though, instead focusing her attention on making eye contact with each of the soldiers for maximum impact. Several spat at her in response, but Devlon merely laughed and raised his eyebrows.

"The _witch_?” He scowled. “I’d have her sprawled on the ground before she could move.” He smiled darkly. “Or maybe sprawled on m...”

Devlon’s eyes bulged as his words cut off rapidly, he and Nesta now locked in a cube of black steel, shadow flickering off the edges, their companions nowhere to be found. Not that Nesta noticed her surroundings at all, as she’d immediately jumped him mid-sentence. Her power had him pinned to the ground as one hand wrapped around his throat, clenching tightly and forcing his breathing to come out as bare whimpers. She smirked as she felt the muscles in his neck begin to give under her grip, as she kept pushing, as his head rolled over, as his eyes rolled back, as…

“Nesta.” Her grip loosened, her head turning to see Cassian grabbing the cube they were in tightly and shaking it with force. “C’mon Nesta, snap out of it.” She turned her head back to the... _other_ Illyrian, his chest barely moving and in intense labor, his body lying motionless beneath her on the ground, and contemplated finishing the job. It would certainly be easy; he was unconscious, and she was inches from his neck. All it would take was a simple twist of her hands, maybe even a snap of her fingers, and she could strip the remaining life from his body. She could show these Illyrians just what the consequences were to go after her, to see her as an easy target.

Her power screamed at her to do it, to kill the bastard who dared mock her, but...it didn’t feel right anymore. She couldn’t do it this way, not like this. Not with him here. She stared at her hands, glowing in purple and black darkness, and willed the embers of shadow to slowly fade away, struggling to fight their resistance even as they obeyed her commands. Her power contained, she spat on Devlon and moved to back up from him, pushing off his motionless body and falling backwards.

...onto the grassy field, exactly where she’d be standing moments before, the black cube nowhere to be seen. Exhaustion had gripped her in a tight vice, her eyes feeling like dead weights on her face and her vision blurring. She mildly registered Cassian falling down beside her on his knees and gripping her shoulders as she fell into his arms, her weight too much for her to hold up on her own. Her eyes slid up to his face, concern lining every edge of his expression.

“...Ca...?”

“Nesta, don’t speak righ...w. You’ve...a lot...and...” As his voice faded in and out of her ears, she closed her eyes and felt his other arm slip underneath her legs. Her body lifted into the air, her neck leaning limply against his chest. He kept speaking, but she let his words drift along the field’s calm wind, far away from her. Its breeze was softly caressing her face, and she found its invitation much more appealing than fighting her fatigue.

She vaguely heard a loud boom of wings before her body settled into a quiet slumber.


	2. Lighting a Fire

** Lighting a Fire **

* * *

Nesta groaned as she awoke, the outside light giving her such a piercing headache she couldn’t open her eyes in the slightest. Not to mention, her muscles were in excruciating pain as well; how much had she had to drink last night? She whimpered as she tried to roll on her side and tug her comforter over her head to shut out the light.

But her hands met empty air, rubbing only against the roughness of the top of her sheets. As the haziness of sleep wore off, she began to wonder how her Velaris apartment was getting this much light streaming into it to begin with; she _always_ had the blinds closed, and it wasn’t as if the city was particularly bright to begin with. But then, that bastard had probably left her window open when they had left the other morning, and she must’ve forgotten to close it.

She calmed her mind in order to try to progress along that resulting sequence of events. She remembered Cassian dropping by to accompany her, then she was yelling at her sister – she gave another whimper and scrunched her still-sealed eyes as a particularly sharp migraine shot through her head, but kept working – then...Cassian was taking her back home, and she was packing to go... 

Her eyes shot open then immediately slammed shut as the light from the large window beside her filled her vision, causing her head to light up in pain and prompting a small scream as she covered her face. She heard footsteps come running towards her, but she didn’t particularly care, considering the amount of pain she was in. Seconds later, the door came crashing open, and she ducked under the sheets to try to escape the noise.

“Sorry.” 

Though she still embraced the darkness beneath her sheets, she could feel his apologetic wince from the softness of his whisper. She merely grunted back, too exhausted to tell him to get out. He walked lightly – thank the gods – to the side of her bed, and she turned her back to him, then changed her mind as she realized she was now facing the window and chose to bury her face in the sheets instead.

“Can I get you anything?”

“Out.” Her voice was stifled by the sheets in her face, and she heard him sigh in frustration. She decided not to give him the time to verbalize those emotions. “ _Everything_. _Hurts_. _Out_.”

Her words elicited a brief pause on his part, then she felt his presence fade with the sound of his footsteps. No sooner had she been given this short time to relax, though, than his footsteps returned, and the bedsprings rasped with the pressure of him sitting beside her. She gritted her teeth – this was the last thing she was in the mood for – but she peeked her head out from under the sheets, opening her eyes as thinly as she could to look at him.

“I’m fairly positive I said–” Nesta was cut off by Cassian dropping an unmarked tin right in front of her face. She moved slightly to get a better vision of him and to retort, edge lining her voice. “And _what_ –” She pushed the tin slightly with the tips of her fingers. “–is _that_?”

“It’s a special oil Illyrians use, made from a sap found only in the trees lining the Illyrian Steppes. It should make your muscles calm down enough to let you sleep a little longer, which should make that headache–” He narrowed his eyes, halting for a few seconds and perhaps debating his next words. “–and hopefully that attitude go away.”

She exhaled at him in disgust, then turned her attention back to the tin, immediately stilling at her realization of his implication. The idea of him applying it to her, his hands massaging her muscles, working their way down her back...she shook her head. Once, during the war, the idea would’ve sent chills down her spine, heat in her core. She would’ve spat insults and fought at him until he’d fought her stubbornness with his own, insisted she “couldn’t possibly” get to those hard-to-reach areas, made her want his hands roaming down, exploring...

She grimaced and forced her mind back into reality. She already was cursing herself internally, as he no doubt could scent the path her mind had taken, despite her burning face being mostly buried in her blanket and sheet. It wasn’t that simple anymore, though. As much as her body had craved his touch from the thought, she also knew the other side of it, the power that would leak out from that contact, the loss of control it could cause, the damage she could do to him, to herself. She opened her eyes wider, her headache slightly dissipated, and was surprised to find his expression hadn’t changed. She struggled to speak, but managed to force out a single word.

“ _No_.”

The word came out soft, but laced with venom. It was perhaps harsher than she wanted, but it was necessary, she thought, as–

“I wasn’t offering.” His countenance stayed stoic as he stood up from her bed, brushing his leathers off as he walked to her door, turning his head slightly to look at her as he hovered his hand against the wood. “I don’t have time today; I’m already behind schedule as is. Besides, you’re going to have to learn to help yourself eventually, and this will be a good start.” Nesta huffed at his impertinence, but she tightly held his eye contact, even as her tightened neck protested at the awkward angle. She wouldn’t back down from him ever, no matter how he spoke to her. ...No matter if his emotionless voice caused a deeper part of her to match her muscles in agony. 

His hand wobbled slightly on the door, then he averted her gaze as he finished speaking. “Now, I have work to do; you’ve been asleep for several days, and I’ve had to postpone some things while waiting for you to wake. I’ll be back this evening to check on you. Hopefully you can figure out how to apply a salve without my help in the meantime.” She didn’t have an opportunity to respond before the wood of the door clicked in place, the handle turned to reduce its noise. The sounds of the front door creaking open and shut resonated through the wooden floors moments later, and she sighed as she laid down carefully on her back and closed her eyes to dissect the morning’s events.

* * *

Nesta laid on the cottage’s couch, its shabbiness oddly comparable to the furniture in her Velaris apartment, and just...stared at this infernal kitchen that Cassian had apparently built. Like the building around it, it was fairly makeshift, consisting of only a small stove and some basic cooking necessities. But that was a much more minor issue compared to her self-revelation that cooking was much more difficult than her servants had made it seem back in the human realm. She’d eventually stopped trying, mostly out of a wish not to destroy _all_ of the cookware in the house, but it was still infuriating that such a simple task evaded her.

She rolled on her stomach in annoyance as her stomach grumbled, well aware that she would have to find some way to coax food out of Cassian, even as she barely wanted to speak with him. Though...there were positives to this forced scenario of hers, as it gave her an excuse to find out how she ended up here and what had occurred in the last few days. She dropped her face into the torn cushion beneath her, exhausted.

 _You’ve been asleep for several days_. Cassian’s comment flickered through her mind as it had dozens of times that afternoon. How could _anyone_ , let alone her, sleep that long, and how was it possible that she didn’t dream during that time, considering she’d had near-nightly nightmares for months with only a few hours’ rest? It seemed impossible.

Though...her body certainly backed up his claims. Not only was her stomach now betraying her, but to be so wound up that a mixture of his scent and a mere _balm_ had disrupted her concentration a few hours prior...she groaned and rose her head, narrowing her eyes in the general direction of the kitchen. She’d at least been able to deal with _that_ herself. There was nothing she was going to be able to do about her hunger without knowing how to use his blasted stove; it was likely going to force her to leave the house soon, with or without being able to interrogate Cassian.

Loudly grumbling, she stood up, wincing at the sudden pain shooting through her legs and latching onto the back of the couch until her nerves dampened. At least the salve had worked just as well as he had claimed it would. Her muscles still tensed and locked, but she could largely move around with relatively minor pain, something she couldn’t have imagined this morning. Her newfound mobility had allowed her to mostly scope out this dwelling she found herself staying in, though the steep stairs still eluded her.

Cassian’s cabin was a small house, made up of a single bedroom that she safely assumed was his, a large drawing room with a built-in kitchen, and her room, which looked to have been hastily fashioned from a former study, all on the first floor. The only bathroom seemed to be attached to Cassian’s bedroom, which...could definitely pose a problem, but that was something to be worried about at a later point. The second floor, which looked to be significantly more compact, appeared to be fairly unused from what she could witness from the ground level, though she planned to fully explore the area once her pain subsided completely.

Having determined she’d waited a satisfactory time to walk, she tested her legs without the support of the couch. They lightly burned in protest, but...they’d probably be fine enough to at least assess her location from outside and see if she was around any kind of civilization. She certainly couldn’t hear anyone from inside, which was a pleasant surprise as, to be honest, she was worried about the wisdom of moving inside the camps themselves after her encounter with Devlon.

She walked to where she’d earlier found her shoes, jacket, and scarf, putting them on as gently as possible to combat her body’s resistance, and opened the front door, eyes widening at the sight before her. Illyrians took up her entire vision: sparring in rings, running around on their evening errands, children rolling around in play...it appeared Cassian had taken her to this village after all. Yet...even as she stood at what looked to be the center of this village, there was no sound, no noise, like someone was...muting the world.

Her thoughts were suspended as she sensed him arriving a moment later, the air from his wings drawing a quick air current into the cabin. She pinched her forehead with her fingers in annoyance before eyeing his landing a few feet away, rolling her eyes at the amount of snow he’d kicked up. She caught a breath and blinked. 

_Snow_.

She was fairly certain the camps were still in Night Court territory, but all the buildings and the ground were coated in the soft, white powder, as if it was deep into the winter season and not still full in the lushness of autumn. They must have climbed a much higher altitude than she’d realized. 

There was almost a...serene feeling about the view, the undisturbed snow on the rooftops and wells creating a calmness to counteract the rapid behavior of the Illyrians living their lives around them. Her awe was short-lived, however, as the Illyrian male filled up her vision, pushing past her into the same, tiny foyer. She crossed her arms and spun to him, earning a tired glance back. He spoke first – whether out of pride for this village or to prevent a fight before it could begin, she didn’t know – and gestured vaguely through the front door behind her.

“Like it?” He gave a soft, tired smile as he kicked off his boots and took off his jacket. She didn’t bother with a response, her eyes shifting back to the view outside instead. “If you’re wondering about the sound, Rhys put a permanent barrier on this house – otherwise, it can be hard to sleep as Illyrians will train at all hours of the night. The noise doesn’t really bother me, but he insisted my future guests might not share the same...apathy. If you’re worried about someone breaking in, don’t be. It’s enchanted so that I can still be able to hear any noises out of the ordinary.”

He reached over her head, earning a look of scorn in exchange, and pushed the door shut as he spared her one last, quick glimpse of disbelief. “Speaking of outside, though, I’d hope you weren’t planning on going out tonight. I mean...I won’t stop you, but they’re not exactly thrilled about your presence. You might want to wait a day or two before attempting another one of your...grand entrances.” He flashed her a mocking grin, more reserved than usual but setting her blood ablaze all the same. She decided to respond in kind, acerbity dripping from her words.

“Well, I wasn’t originally planning on it, but a certain bastard declined to leave me a single morsel of food to eat.” Her hands dropped to her hips, and her eyes narrowed. “It was either explore the town or wait for you to get back at who-knows-what gods-forsaken hour of the night.”

He raised his eyebrows at her tone, then craned his head around the entryway to the piles of pots and failed dishes in the kitchen before leaning his head back and, to Nesta’s great irritation, echoing a booming laugh through the small cabin. Her fade reddened, and she cut him off.

“And what, pray tell, is so funny about me starving for the whole day?”

“Apologies.” He gave her a mocking wink to let her know his words were anything but, and she crossed her arms and straightened her back in obstinance. “Do you really not know how to cook?”

“I–” Her face burned further, and her words caught in her mouth as a grin once again lit up his face. She exhaled in irritation and quickly recovered, closing her eyes in contempt. “I’ve never found the need to learn.” It wasn’t strictly true, but...she pushed that thought away before it brought with it its accompanying poor memories. She looked back up at Cassian, his grin now almost back to his previous laugh, and pushed past him. “I’m glad you can find such entertainment in something so stupid. I’ll be in my room; let me know when dinner is ready.”

“Woah, woah.” 

She sighed as he caught her wrist, pings of electricity shooting up her arm from his touch. She side-eyed him with that look that let him know he was playing with danger, but...she let him tug her back a short distance before yanking her hand from his grip. And she doubted this small fact escaped his attention. She reluctantly turned towards him as he entered the kitchen from the other side of the wooden island, raising an eyebrow at her in challenge. 

“I was just surprised and messing with you. Come on.” He flipped one of the few pots that had survived her wake in his hands, and beamed at her with his usual arrogance. “I’ll teach you how.”

“I think I’d rather starve,” she deadpanned as she leaned against the island. But she quickly lost this round, going back and forth a few more times before finally giving in after he promised he’d eat both of their portions otherwise.

She looked up at him, concentration lining his brow as he prepared the ingredients, a smirk lining his face as she rolled her eyes at one of his stupid jokes. Being around him...it wasn’t as hard as she’d imagined, as she’d feared all those months in Velaris. Even after she’d shunned him for over a year, he was still working with her, sticking by her. She didn’t deserve him.

Though he could certainly work on giving instructions, as he kept meandering on and on about unnecessary details. She felt a tug from the back of her mind at his voice, and she closed her eyes as he droned on, letting it drift her back into her memories...

* * *

_“And what do you suppose this monstrosity is?” Nesta walked up to the campfire Cassian had set up, a giant slate of meat suspended above it. He met her eyes and grinned._

_“Boarhide.” Nausea rippled through her, and he laughed, gesturing towards a fully-stocked plate on his other side. “Relax, I made you a meal far more fit for your..._ delicate, female _tastes.” He winked at her as he dragged out every word, and the entire campsite heard her disdain as she crossed behind him to her plate._

 _“Delicate?” She eyed him out of the corner of her vision as she sat down beside him. “I wasn’t aware that Illyrians brought_ delicate _females to battle with them.”_

_“They do when said female can bring a thousand males to their knees without drawing a blade.” She shielded a satisfied smirk at his comments with a bite of her food, and he continued, his voice losing its playful touch. “Do you...are you still...sure...this is what you want? We don’t know what could happen tomorrow, what could happen after.” His voice lowered. “If there even is an after for either of us.”_

_Her eyes cut back to him, his stare boring into her, and she nodded. “Whatever happens tomorrow with Hybern...this is our best chance at making it through alive.” She thought about Feyre and Elain, what the consequences of failure would be, and shook her head. “You can’t change my decision.”_

_He sat there softly, the two of them in quiet solace, then pulled her tightly into his chest, laughing at her half-hearted protests. She leaned her head into his body, syncing her breathing with his, and watched his other arm move to pull her in closer._

_That’s when she first noticed it._

_It started as a blip on his arm, but it slowly began pushing its black tendrils out, dripping up his veins and expanding outward like a net. She jumped up in alarm, pushing his body off as she reached out for his arm._

_And stuck her hand in the campfire instead._

* * *

Pain seared through her left hand as she stumbled backwards, Cassian managing to catch her as she lost balance. She grabbed his right arm tightly to stop the rapid expansion of the black lines, to help him as it...

She stopped in place. The only black ink that lined his arms were his familiar tattoos; the only erratic movement was hers. Her breathing was wild as she observed her surroundings, remembered the cabin, remembered what she was doing, tried to settle down. She pushed back against the island to stabilize herself and cursed at the sudden shock of pain that shot through her hand. Cassian frowned as he gently pulled his arm away to continue soaking the cold cloth she had pulled him away from and pressed it against her hand. The icy touch sparked another round of obscenities, and she shoved Cassian back, earning a sharp rebuke in the process.

“You put your hand in the gas. You need to be caref–”

“I don’t need anything from you.” She took several steps away from him, eyes like daggers aimed squarely at his chest. To her dismay, the memories of that campfire began flooding back: the panic, the pain...she clenched her eyes shut and backed away further as she shoved the cloth harder against her hand. His voice was shaking as he stepped softly towards her, reaching one hand gently out towards her. 

“Nesta, I...”

His expression was crushing her; she needed to get away from this, from him, now. She turned away from him in dismissal. “Forget it. Just let me know when dinner is ready.”

“Wait.” She was almost to her doorway when she heard him call to her from behind. Her instincts stopped her in place, back still turned, and she heard him sigh, before reluctantly continuing to speak. “I’m gone nearly all day every day, sometimes for days at a time. You’re not going to be able to survive without knowing how to cook at least a little. So unless you’re planning on attending all of my work with me, I don’t care how you learn, but...”

Her hand rested softly on her door handle as she closed the door and cut off his remarks, a dark silence swallowing the rest of his words. She sat down in front of the door, holding tightly to her burnt hand, trembling against the wood behind her. She knew she needed to learn, needed to fend for herself in this city, but...reliving that moment had destroyed her. The sheer terror pouring through her body...she knew she couldn’t handle anymore tonight. She’d barely be able to handle herself as is. She took a deep breath and called through the door.

“I guess I’ll just starve, then.”

He didn’t respond. But when the knock for dinner came later that night, she found her meal, a note attached to it, placed next to her door and Cassian nowhere in sight.

_5 A.M. Be up._

**Author's Note:**

>  
> 
> **  
> **  
> Author's Note  
>   
> 
> 
> With the postponement of our Nessian novel until 2020, I figured I'd try my hand at a second lengthy fanfiction. Please let me know if you enjoy the fanfiction or if you have any pointers, criticism, or wishes. I love comments!!
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!!
> 
> P.P.S: My tumblr is ritamordio19 if you want to come hang out :).


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